“You mean have I ever had too much? Have I ever made an ass out of myself?”
A small sound, almost like laughter, slips out of her. She’s still so upset she can’t bring herself to fully laugh, but it’s close enough that a sliver of pride beats through me.
“Many, many times,” I go on. “Too many times to count. But that’s where you’re going to be different than me. You’re going to do better. You’re not going to be like me when I was your age.”
She falls silent again, staring out the window like she’s thinking on what I’ve said. We fall into another spate of silence as I redirect my attention to the road ahead and she seems to get lost in her head.
I’m still concerned about her. Still convinced she hasn’t told me the whole truth.
But I’m also relieved she’s stopped tearing up. That she’s calmed down as much as she has. At one point, as we pass through Jefferson, she nods off for a few minutes.
I let her sleep, aware of the fact she feels safe enough to.
It’s what convinces me to keep my word. Keep her secret.
She asked me not to tell Big Eddie and Moses, and for now, I’m going to follow through on that. I’m going to show she was right to trust me in the first place.
The miles wind down, and soon enough we’re outside the house she calls home. Moses’s bike is gone (he’s out of town for a bike show), but Big Eddie’s is parked in the garage driveway.
I shift gears into park and give Solana a gentle shake by the shoulder. She stirs with squinted eyes and a little hum from her throat, then it dawns on her where we are.
“That was fast,” she mutters, sitting up. “Um… thanks for the ride. You really didn’t have to.”
“I told you you can call me anytime. I’ll pick you up if you need me to.”
She nods, then starts gathering her things, her fingers fumbling for the door handle.
“Solana,” I say before she can open the door. “Remember what I’ve said.”
“I will. I’m done with that…”
“If you need to talk about it more—about last night—I’m here.”
A second or two passes where we hold each other’s stare, and the subtext of my words hangs in the air. She knows she didn’t tell me the truth about last night, and I’m letting her know I know. I’m telling her she can come to me about it, and then…
…then I’m not even sure.
I’m not sure what I’ll do, depending on what it is. If I’m even capable of remaining as calm and rational as I try to be.
But the first step is gaining her trust. Getting her to open up. Realize shecantell me about it.
“I know,” she whispers. The corner of her lips quirks slightly, almost like the beginnings of a grateful smile, and then she’s pushing the door open and climbing out of the truck.
I wait idled at the curb as she walks up to the front door, fusses with her keys ’til she’s got the right one, and then heads inside. The door drifts shut, and I wonder if Big Eddie’s already awake. If he’ll even notice she’s just come home and didn’t sleep there last night.
Most of the town sleeps late on Sundays. It’s not even eight a.m.
Big Eddie was out last night at the watch party at the Steel Saloon. He’s probably knocked out in bed.
My assessment’s correct—a couple seconds later, I see curtains in one of the windows rustle. They part to reveal Solana glancing out, probably checking to see if I’m still here. She waves at me. I nod in return, then I’m starting the truck and taking off.
I’m leaving, keeping this early morning pick up a secret. Nobody else will know. Just the two of us…
4
SOLANA
The first thingI do once I’ve snuck into Uncle Eddie’s house is take a long, hot shower. Unc is still fast asleep, the door to his bedroom shut and only the sounds of his snores rumbling from the other side.
